


Supply and Demand

by Arsenic



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Jensen, captured by the enemy, is forced into sexual slavery. When rescued by his teammates nearly a year later, he finds it difficult to shake his training and wonders if he still deserves to wear his uniform. He struggles with what he really wants and what he’s been trained to want. His teammates step in to lend a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supply and Demand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



> Unbeta'ed, because it was written as a treat. Hope I got somewhere close to what you wanted with the prompt, Heeroluva.

Slave 204 knows what's happening. It's not the first time he's been "on the block." It's not an actual block, of course, that's not how trafficking works. It's a holding pen where he's been thrown because he came down with the flu and his last owner couldn't be bothered to have a sick slave.

204 is too sick to care what happens. Between the spotty meals and the beatings, he's pretty rundown, the flu is just insult to injury. Mostly he just wants to be left alone to die, but he suspects that would be too lucky. If he's learned anything in this last year of hell, it's that his blond hair and blue eyes make him useful. His mouth, less so, but he's mostly learned to keep quiet. His brain is his secret, now, rather than his most useful tool. 

The cell is crowded with others, but they're giving him some room because he's communing with the latrine bucket, which was disgusting to begin with. He's at least not called up to auction from the pen, and that's something, that's a gift. He hopes it's a while before he sells.

*

It's less than a day. 204 knows because they feed the slaves in the pens at least once a day and there's been nothing since he was thrown in there. He's taken out and tied, like he can run anywhere when he's shaking with fever and dry-heaving every few minutes.

They put a sackcloth on his head, which makes it both hard to breath and hard to swallow. He gets all-but dragged for a ways, struggling just to keep his feet beneath him. He's left to stand on his own and sinks down. He doesn't mean to, knows he's not supposed to, but he can't manage to stay standing. Every muscle and joint in his body feels like jelly. Molding jelly.

He's not surprised by the kick, moves with it as much as he can. He is surprised by the low growl of, "Get the hell away from him."

Also surprising is being gently raised up to a standing position and gently herded to…maybe a van. The seat is padded. He wasn't allowed on the furniture by his first master, and it still makes him a little nervous, expecting a whip or a taser.

Someone says, "Get that fucking thing off his face."

Another voice says, "Relax, Jensen, we're getting it."

204 full-out flinches from the forbidden word. He learned that lesson, he did. He doesn't even use the word in his mind. He whispers, "I know better, I know better."

"Jesus Christ," the first voice swears, and then the sackcloth is off and 204 can breathe. He would thank them, but speaking out of turn isn't always appreciated.

"Shit," a fourth voice says. "Fuck."

And…204 knows that voice. In fact, he…he knows all of these voices. Very carefully, he peers as far as he can manage without actually lifting his head. There's a pair of long female legs and in front, on the dash, Pooch's bobblehead.

His breath catches. No, this isn't—this isn't happening, they aren't seeing him like this, aren't seeing how useless he's become. 204 has a million nightmares, but this one, this is the worst. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry."

Aisha says, "Sh, Jensen, just, shush."

204 knows better than to disobey a direct order.

*

They bring him into a converted warehouse, the kind they almost always bunked down in. It's warm, though, and the warmth is perfect, lovely, golden, everything he wants in life. Well, maybe not everything. He would love to lie down.

The team has bought him, though, and they might need something of him. "How can I serve?"

There's a long silence, and for a second, 204 thinks he's done something wrong, something he doesn't know about. Then Clay says, "No service, Jensen, we just need to get you better, buddy."

He doesn't want to get sold again. The team has already seen him like this. He doesn’t want them to give him away. "'M okay. Can do…whatever."

There's another silence and then Pooch says, "Okay, buddy. But let's get to that later. Let's start with getting you some food."

204 knows he needs food. He hasn't had enough in a year. But he's so nauseated, it sounds terrible. He's been told to eat, though, so he will.

They seat him on something soft and bring him a glass of water. It tastes brilliant, clean and cool and he hadn't even realized how thirsty he is, but he is insanely thirsty. Cougar pulls the glass away and says, "Slowly."

204 obeys. He suspects he is not supposed to drink it all, but Cougar just keeps tipping the glass in small increments until it is gone. At that point, Pooch sits next to him, a bowl in his hands. There's a spoon in the bowl. 204 is not certain if he is supposed to take it. Pooch says, "C'mon, Jay. You need the protein."

204 takes the spoon. He's a little shaky from the fever, his exhaustion and hunger, but he manages to make it to his mouth for half of the bowl. Then, not only does he start feeling like it will come back up, but his arm is done, can no longer make the journey.

"Okay," Clay says, and the next thing 204 knows, he's being laid down, a blanket draped over him, and Clay is telling him, "Sleep."

He sleeps.

*

He has fever induced nightmares, wakes expecting blows or at the very least a kick. Instead he is given water, sometimes more broth. He wakes offering himself and is wrapped back up in blankets.

He has no idea how much time has passed when he wakes with his mind working and things actually slotting into place. He still feels uncertain about being on the bed they've put him in, but he can recognize that they're his _team_. They're not going to have him service them. At least, he doesn't think. They _probably_ want him to go by his real—last, he's not even going to _consider_ his first—name, even if the thought makes him want to hide under the bed.

They need him for…for what he used to do. The thought causes a cold panic. What if he can't anymore? He hasn't really tried in a year. And—and he's been taught what he's good for, and it's not that. He's hyperventilating by the time Pooch comes into the room. Immediately Pooch rushes to him, says, "Shit, shit, I only left for a minute. It's okay, Jensen, you're safe, we promise, totally safe."

20—Jensen shakes his head, and then panics because he's disagreed with an owner. "No, I—"

"Jensen, listen to me. Inhale and hold, one, two, three, now exhale, one, two, three, four, five. And again."

Jensen has no idea how long he sits there, listening and obeying, only that eventually, he can breathe without Pooch talking him through it. Because hiding things just makes the punishment worse later, Jensen gathers enough air to tell him. "I'm no good for the team."

Pooch says, "Well. I suppose for now we'll have to agree to disagree about that."

*

Jensen is still feeling too wobbly to make it to the bathroom, but Cougar comes and basically carries him. He leaves him the dignity of staying on his feet, but just barely. Afterward, he silently coaxes Jensen to eat the broth and bread and even Jell-o he's brought. He doesn't say much, but then, that's Cougar all over. He does say, "Good," when Jensen finishes the food, and Jensen hides the warmth he gets from the praise. If you hide something, unless they find it, nobody can take it away.

*

It is Aisha who brings him a computer. It used to be his, but slaves don't have property, they _are_ property. Still, she brings him one, and says, "Jensen, do you think you can do a little hacking for us? We know you're feeling shitty, but we really just need this one thing."

His hands shake over the keyboard, but it's still like coming home, like settling. He's done within minutes, maybe even a minute. Aisha smiles and asks, "Can I touch you, Jensen?"

He can't help stiffening a little, but if she wants to touch him, that's her right. All she does, though, is rub his lower back a bit, in the space between two not-completely-healed whip marks. She kisses him on the temple, light, like a butterfly. 

He doesn't understand it. Aisha is many things, but she's never been particularly kind toward him. Funny, challenging, even at times impressed, but not kind. He likes it, but it's weird. He says, "I—I can do more."

"Not now, okay? Not now."

"I'm useful," he says softly, doing his best not to cringe away from a possible slap.

She feathers her hand through his hair, says, " _We_ know that, Jensen."

*

Clay starts giving him more and more assignments. Jensen sometimes vomits from nerves when he's not sure he can make it happen, but after every single one he finishes, Cougar will rub knots from his shoulders, Clay will hug him, gently, like a life-sized teddy bear, Pooch will coax him into a high five, and Aisha will smile and kiss the crown of his head.

It's not perfect. He still can't think of himself by his first name. He's useless in the field. He takes everything as orders. But he can take simple touch from the others. He can hack as well as he ever has. He has use outside of the bedroom. He might not believe it. But it's there, and the others remind him all the time.

He thinks…he thinks one day he will believe.


End file.
